I Love You And Goodbye
by Happily Not You
Summary: Dear Harry, I know that there is a lot that has happened. I hope that you can forgive me for everything (although that may be impossible). As I write this, I have made every preparation to save you Harry. I can't say that I had no help; I saw your godfather in a vision (or at least I think I did). By the way, he says to tell Remus that, "I miss him, but not to beat himself up. It'


**Missing You**

Draco Malfoy was sulking in his room on his bed, staring out his window. The waxing crescent moon (_Useless information_, he thought. _Thank you so much, Professor Sinistra. That's going to keep me alive_) had just risen and it was the only light illuminating the Manor grounds. It was Good Friday, and he was home for his Easter Holidays.

Not that he wanted to be at the manor…actually he felt the opposite. Even though Voldemort was everywhere, his presence was particularly felt at his home base. With torture on the menu every night, it was no surprise. He was crucioed at least once every couple of days, and he did nothing to the Dark Lord. Today, he had been cursed by his precious Aunt Bella, for several minutes. It was no wonder that Draco was even more scared at home than anywhere else, especially because he knew that he was a coward. Really, it was no surprise. For whatever reason, however, Voldemort's presence had never fully infiltrated Hogwarts. May be Dumbledore had cast some sort of curse, but even though Death Eaters were at the school, people did not see Voldemort as a permanent presence; What remained of Dumbledore's Army still went against the Carrows on a daily basis; it was refreshing. Even the Slythereins who did not agree with Voldemort were able to rebel in little ways. Uncle Sev, his godfather and mentor, was able to turn a blind eye to the little things that they did.

Most importantly, Draco could still feel Harry at Hogwarts in a sense. It seemed that he had a memory in each hall, each classroom, each bathroom. He could think back to before fifth year, back when they still hated each other, when they would taunt each other as Potter and Malfoy, and when his thoughts were always filled with Potter and Pansy would giggle when he began ranting, and he did not know why she would say "No need to get so touchy, Draco. It's not like we don't know that you like him."

He could go to the Astronomy Tower at night and remember the warm, May evening of fifth year when they had their first kiss. One of them had gone too far and they had crashed together, fists flying, falling to the ground. Somehow, their lips fell together, and they began to kiss in the same way they had been fighting: hard and rough. They had separated, and Draco had run away, like the coward that he was.

He could go to the third floor corridor that was forbidden in first year, and remember when Harry had finally cornered him the day after, holding him against the wall while confessing his feelings like the brave Gryffindor he was. Draco had nearly lied like the sneaky, cowardly Slytherein he was. Something made him say the truth though. They had kissed, and Draco finally figured out that may be he could have forever with someone out of love, like his parents were before his father went insane trying to get Voldemort's favor, and his mother got so scared of everything.

Draco could go into his trunk and read the old letters that Harry had sent him, starting from just after Sirius' death and his father's imprisonment. They had written each other letters constantly, even during the school year, because they were not always free to see each other, having to sneak around, rendezvousing in the Room of Requirement, in secret passageways, in the Shrieking Shack, much to Draco's displeasure. In fact, they were freer in the summer, when Draco could go to a "friend's" and Harry could just leave (because the Dursleys didn't care about him anyway). They could meet in cafes and restaurants in the Muggle world where no one cared about them being together, holding hands. He could touch the parchment, pretending Harry was still there, and read his words. He had memorized every letter, every word.

Draco could walk to the Room of Requirement, and remember their private little Christmas together. It was the best holiday he had ever had, especially after Harry had accepted his present in front of the burning fire in the hearth. The present was a ring for him. Harry's ring had a green emerald in it that reminded him of his eyes. Harry had said that the ring really resembled Draco more than himself. When Draco asked why, he simply smiled. He had a ring that was nearly identical, only its stone was a brilliant red ruby. He had chosen it because it had reminded him of Harry: his passion, his courage. They kissed by the firelight.

There was one problem with Hogwarts: the bad memories were there too.

That room had also been where he had lied to him the first time, in bed, later that night, about the plot to kill Dumbledore. He knew he only had a limited time with Harry left. Draco was not brave and he knew it. He also knew that Harry would never forgive him for this betrayal. It was the only way they could both stay alive. Draco had a sense of self-preservation; he wasn't Harry.

He also had to remember the scenes of Harry and Ginny's careful ruse of loving each other. Ginny had been dating Blaise, and needed to hide it as desperately as Harry needed to hide his relationship with Draco. Even the memory of seeing them kiss, or Ginny draped over Harry still sickened Draco.

Draco still avoided the headmaster's tower as if it was the plague. His dreams were still destroyed by the images of Harry's disappointed and betrayed face, his tears.

Still, Hogwarts was better than anywhere else was. His friends were still there. Pansy and Nott helped him go against the Death Eaters, and they comforted each other at the worst of times, same as ever. Crabbe and Goyle were left out, but they were never his real friends anyway (more like goons). Blaise was gone to Italy, his mother forcing him to escape with her there. Blaise was not allowed to write to anyone at home, but at least that kept him able to talk to Ginny about Harry, and get vital information about the DA, so he could avoid and help the army when it was necessary.

Still, Draco felt alone without Harry, without his warm arms to curl in when he had nightmares of Voldemort. Draco could list all of the qualities that he missed of Harry now, so much so that his friends were getting a little sick of his sad mooning. He never dressed in color; everything was black and grey to him now.

Wallowing in his own sadness, Draco looked out side. Trying to see Harry futilely. Malfoy Manor was situated in a clearing of a forest, trees all around. He could see above all of them in his bedroom. In the distance were tall mountains, seeming to almost reach the moon.

He looked away from the window, and curled into himself in a dark green blanket. Draco pressed his forehead to his knees and tried to fall asleep.

**xXx**

Before he opened his eyes, Draco heard a house-elf's squeaky voice. " Young Master Malfoy, please wake up!"

He looked up blearily, seeing the worried face of the elf. "Yous is awake."

"Yes," he said. "I am."

"Madam Malfoy calls for you from the front parlor," she said. "She says it be important."

"I understand," Draco said. "Thank you, Twinkie."

The elf bowed, then disappeared with a pop.

Draco got up, untangling himself out of his blankets, his muscles still aching. He took a quick look in the mirror, needing to straighten his hair and clothes. He could never look weak…not in front of the Dark Lord, or any of his followers. It would call attention to him.

He went downstairs silently and into the front parlor, where his mother and father sat together. In his childhood, they would be sitting close together, often touching hands. They may not have been married by choice, but by the time Draco was born, they loved each other deeply. He had lived a blessed childhood…until He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returned.

Then, his father had become a cold, sharp man, and his mother had become frightened of everything. Gone were the days of love and family; in their place was fear. His parents were like strangers to him now.

He walked over to them, then bowed and kissed Narcissa on the cheek, "Mother," he said in greeting. He straightened, and inclined his head to Lucius, "Father."

His father nodded back to him, "Draco." He paused for a moment and said, "I just got a message from Greyback." Draco nodded. "He needs you to identify a prisoner, a possible escaped Hogwarts student."

Draco hated it when they brought in people that he knew. It was too hard. He knew that if he identified them, they would be killed or tortured, but if he didn't, he would be tortured as well as his parents. It was like a situation from a muggle book Draco had once read (at Harry's urging) called _Catch-22_; there was no way for someone to get out unscathed, to win. His dilemma was a no-win situation. Draco, forever the Slytherein coward, chose what would benefit himself.

Draco paled, but otherwise tried not to show his emotions. "I see," he said, nodding.

His parents looked on, helplessly.

He looked outside and saw, lit up by the moon, a group of people in cloaks, a single prisoner. He turned towards his parents, looking for solace, but found none. Draco remained standing.

Within moments, the door flew open with a loud bang.

A group of Death Eaters came into the room, wands out. In the center of the pack, was Harry Potter.

Draco froze, eyes wide. Harry had been captured. He couldn't believe it. And, yet, there he was, in the center, his hands bound by cuffs and rope. His eye looked like it had been hit and was going to turn black. He was pale, too thin, and haunted. Draco was the most shocked at his eyes. They were looking straight at him, and they had a venom in them that he had never seen directed at him. It was as bad as the glares he had given Uncle Sev after he had killed Dumbledore, which was the last sight he had had of him before he ran past the gates of Hogwarts and vanished into the night.

He brought himself back to Earth when his Aunt arrived in the room. "Is that Little Potter?" She cooed. "Why isn't that glare he has pleasant?" She began to reach for her wand, and Draco prepared to pull out his, to protect Harry.

"You can't touch him, Bella," his mother interrupted. "The Dark Lord won't allow it. You know the rule."

"I know," she said. "I was just teasing, Cissa."

Draco's mother looked as frail as ever; it seemed to take all of her energy to go against her sister. "Still, Bella. You know that we can't contact the Dark Lord right now. He's abroad, and we're not allowed to."

"Until Easter," Bellatrix smiled sardonically. "That's too bad; now I have to wait."

"We shouldn't put him with the other prisoners," his father said. "They could plot a way to escape. We have empty rooms in the Manor. We can put him in one of those." He paused for a moment. "Someone should watch him though. I know," he turned to Draco. "We could put him in the room across the hall from Draco's and Draco can watch him."

"Good idea," Narcissa said. "Is that okay with you, Draco?"

"Yes," Draco said, looking at Harry. "Yes, it is."

They went upstairs and went into the room across from Draco's. The room was now nearly bare; the house elves had worked quietly and efficiently. Gone was the once decadence that marked the Manor; in its place was a threadbare room. There was a single wooden chair and a bed with a hard mattress on it, but nothing else. A Death Eater chained Harry's foot to the bedpost, charming the chain so that it would be unbreakable.

"Where's Potter's wand?" Bellatrix asked.

"Right here," the Death Eater gave her the familiar wand.

"I'll hold onto this," Bellatrix pocketed it.

"Let's leave the prisoner alone," Draco's father said. "We can't do anything to him anyway."

As the Death Eaters filed out of the room, Draco gave a final look at Harry. Harry looked back at him angrily.

Draco shut the door behind him.

**xXx**

When Draco woke up the next morning, it was not as late as he would have liked it to be. He was a lazy slug, and he knew it. His bed was one of his best friends, even if he could only stand him when he was asleep.

Harry was the opposite. He could operate on very little sleep if any at all (in contrast to Draco, who needed at least nine hours of sleep to not be a complete bitch in the morning). He was also a very light sleeper, waking up at any movement, unlike Draco, who could hibernate like a bear. When he slept next to Harry (which was rare, but they were able to do it, several times), he usually woke to Harry playing with his hair, smiling softly, in a way that made his heart ache in that peculiar way that made him feel like he was going to cry. Harry was always already up when he woke from a nightmare, to soothe him.

Once, he woke up before Harry though (it was the last time they had, and a week before then). He had woken up, after having a nightmare that he hadn't been able to fucking do it, so he was brought back to the Manor, and watched his parents be tortured slowly, then be killed. Then, he had returned to Harry, and Harry had been reviled by him, and he tried to kill him. Instead though, out of nowhere, Voldemort had killed Harry, and, oh, God, Harry had been lying there, dead.

Draco had shot awake, sitting straight up in bed, panting and in a cold sweat. Then, he had looked over at Harry, seeing if he was awake, or even still alive.

What he saw took his breath away.

Harry looked wonderful in repose. He was quiet and peaceful, something that he rarely was, with the horrors of Voldemort, and Death Eaters, and his awful relatives. But, then, there, he was perfect. He was the Harry that James and Lily Potter would have raised, without a care in all the world.

It was then that he realized that that was what he wanted to give Harry, someday.

It was to this peacefully sleeping Harry that he told all of the horrible things that he had seen Voldemort do to people. He told him the entire plot, half expecting him to rise from bed and hold him or run away.

Harry didn't wake up, and it had come to this.

Perhaps, though, he could still give him peace.

He sat up, like a zombie. He knew that Harry was probably awake, but he couldn't bring himself to go in, to bother him. He had done enough of that. He could leave him alone; no one was allowed, "to touch the boy" until Voldemort got there.

Instead, he pulled on a pair of black trousers, and a deep green dress shirt (_Like Harry's eyes_, he thought.), He made sure that they had no wrinkles or imperfections. Even (_especially_, even) in these times, a Malfoy had to put on a perfect face. It was unavoidable, and if he didn't do it, his father would have no problem punishing him. So he slicked back his hair, so that it was as perfect as it was when he was at school, even more so. He put on black dress shoes. Perfect. Now, if one ignored the dark shadows in and around his grey eyes and his pallor (which most did), they would see the old "Ice Prince of Slytherein," that he wished he could be again.

He went downstairs, quietly.

_"No noise," his mother had said, before the change, lightly tapping his nose with her finger. He had been seven. "Grace must exude from the Malfoy heir," his mother added proudly. "And a Black one, at that." She smiled at him. He went back up and down the stairs silently. He looked at her for approval. She nodded, opening her arms. He had flown into them. She kissed the top of his head. "My perfect, precious, little boy. I'm so lucky have you." _

_He smiled brightly, "I know, and I'm lucky to have you too, Mama," he kissed her on the cheek. _

Draco could almost see the memory; how happy they had been, how _lucky_. Voldemort was dead, and times were good for the Malfoy family. Then, of course, _he_ had returned.

He went into the Manor's dining room and sat down to breakfast. Many of the Death Eaters had left the night before, to try to collect the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio, and hadn't returned. _They have probably gone back to their hovels,_ he thought venomously. He was grateful they were gone though. He grabbed an egg and a piece of toast. His parents were sitting at the table, as was his "Aunt Bella." Mother and Father no longer questioned his tiny appetite. They didn't have much of one either.

After a few moments where the only sound was that of forks and knives clinking on porcelain, his father said, "Could you bring breakfast to the Prisoner?"

Although his father was being vague, he knew that he referred to Harry. Draco fought to seem reluctant. "To Potter?" He whined. "Can't you get an elf to do it? That's their _job._"

"Listen to your father, baby Draco," Bellatrix cooed. It was a concealed threat, and Draco knew it. His hackles raised.

He was about to shout, when his mother said, "Draco." She said his name in that tone that he could never deny. "Just do it," she pleaded.

He bit back a smile, and glared at his plate, "Fine," he mock pouted. His mother gave him a weak smile.

They ate in silence.

**xXx**

After eating, an elf handed him a tray loaded down with food. He knew that it was simply a precaution; Voldemort wanted all the "fun" to himself.

He quietly went upstairs and knocked on Harry's door before walking in. He was in the same position that he had been when he had left him. The red marks that had been on Harry's skin the night before were now full-fledged bruises. He had a particularly nasty black eye and bruises around his wrists where the ropes and cuffs had been. Draco put down the food next to Harry and said, "It's breakfast. Eat up." He made himself comfortable in the wooden chair in the room (not that that seemed possible, but he did his best).

Harry continued glaring at him. Draco sighed. "Just eat okay. It's not poisoned or anything, I swear." Harry glared at him harder. "Fine, you want me to taste-test it. Fine." Draco picked up a piece of bacon. It felt heavy in his mouth. "Mmmm…" he said, "It's fine; I'm not dead."

"How do I know you're not in on it? Like with Dumbledore?" Harry questioned.

That hit him like a punch in the stomach. A flash of pain flickered on Draco's face, before he quickly hid it. He needed to remain calm; there could (_would_) be plenty of time for yelling and fighting and reconciliation later. Now, Draco had to focus on saving Harry and keeping him calm and from doing anything _stupid._

"Fine," Draco said, jaw clenching. "Believe that if you want. Just eat." Harry nodded and ate, Draco helplessly watching the man he loved hate him.

When Harry finished, Draco took the plate and said, "I'll be back with your supper." He turned and smiled softly, meeting Harry's glare. "Goodbye. I love you."

There was no response.

When he stepped outside, a house elf took the plate from Draco. He swallowed back the lump in his throat, and went downstairs. Waiting for him was an unexpected friend, leaning against the banister.

"Theo?" he said. "Is that you?"

"In the flesh," he got off of the banister. He was still as tall and thin as ever, not quite as gangly as Weasley, but still very tall. He loomed over Draco (who was 5'10") at 6'1."

"What are you doing here?"

"Father gave me permission to come visit you," he said. "Why don't we talk more in the garden?"

Draco nodded, and they went outside.

The garden was one of the only places where it was impossible for Voldemort to overhear conversations. There were special charms on it so that his parents could still talk privately somewhere. It was full of white roses (planted originally by Draco's Grandma Malfoy and blooming eternally through magic), and the legendary albino peacocks roamed the pathways. He walked with Theo and cast a silent _Muffliato_.

"Has it been done?" Theo asked. Draco nodded. "Good. I've heard about Potter."

Draco raised an eyebrow, "How? We were trying to keep it quiet..."

Theo rolled his eyes, "Really, Draco? Bellatrix keeping _anything_ quiet? That's not just unlikely, it's impossible."

Draco sighed. "Yeah, he's here."

"And how are things?" Theo asked. "Better or worse than you expected?"

"Well, he hasn't been cursing me, but he doesn't exactly have a wand either."

"Ah, I see."

"He hates me, Theo, _hates_ me."

"You two have managed to get past that before."

"You don't know Harry like I do, Theo. Once you've betrayed him, you can't get him back."

"He'll see that you had no choice..."

"I hope so..."

"...and if he doesn't, then he's not worth it anyway."

"You sound just like Pansy."

"Well, if she thinks so too, then we must both be right."

Draco shook his head. "No, Theo, He'll always be worth it. How could he not be?" Theo did not answer. Draco then said, "My top priority isn't winning him back right now anyway; it's getting him out of here by Sunday. If he's not gone by then...he's dead, and none of this will matter anymore. My life will be over."

Theo did not doubt that Draco would commit suicide if Harry died. The sad thing was that probably no one would be able to stop him. Though, Theo would try his damnedest. "I'll help in any way I can."

"I thought you hated Harry, Theo."

"I still don't like him, no. He is foolish, rash, and cannot see what is right in front of him. He is the exact opposite of who I like, yes."

"Then why are you helping me?"

"Because you're one of my best friends, Draco, even if Pansy still creeps me out," Theo said. "And even if_ I_ really can't see what you see in him...well, I guess what I'm saying is that I trust your judgment."

"Aw...Theo..."

"Don't you dare do this!" Theo frowned. "Stop doing that."

"But it's _soooooo_ nice and touching!" Draco crooned, a broad grin on his face.

"Stop it!"

As Draco teased him, (moving from Theo's "touching" statements to his strange fear of Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode) Theo was, in reality, far from annoyed. _I've done __**my **__job, Potter, _he thought. _Now, it's time to do yours_.

After all, a love is supposed to make you smile, not become suicidal.

**xXx**

Draco bid Theo farewell, after promising to get in touch with him if anything changed, or if he needed any help.

Draco slowly went upstairs. He went down the hall, and stared at Harry's door for a few moments. He knew that he wouldn't be welcome there, but he could not resist. He opened the door.

What he saw took his breath away. Harry was sleeping, laying on his rock-like bed, although he looked far from comfortable. In fact, he seemed to be cold, curled up into himself, trying to stay warm. He had no blankets. Draco wanted to do nothing more than to take him into his arms; but, alas, that was impossible. Harry would wake up and then this fragile, blessed moment would be ruined. Harry shifted in his sleep. Draco froze. He was turning onto his side, towards Draco. He murmured a soft, "Draco…" and continued to sleep.

Draco felt his heart break. Yet, this muttering gave him hope. Harry missed him, if only subconsciously. He didn't know if he even deserved this, but he hoped….

Draco walked backwards, tiptoeing out of the room. As he left, he cast a whispered, "_Cave Inimicum_," to alert him if anyone entered Harry's room but him. As he shut the door, he whispered, "Goodnight, Harry." Then he went into his room. When he entered, he felt an unstoppable urge to fall into bed and fall asleep himself.

He collapsed onto his bed, and as his eyes closed, idly thought. _I think I might have been cursed_, and then he promptly fell asleep.

**xXx**

"Draco….Draco…"

"Who goes there?" he whirled around and reached for his wand.

"Look behind you…" Draco turned again, and saw Sirius Black. He looked at him in shock. "You-you're dead!"

"Yup!" Sirius smiled broadly. Draco had never met his cousin, but he had certainly heard about him. His mother considered him with 99% disdain, and 1% admiration. His aunt was insane, but considered him to be a disgrace. He had met Madame Black as a very small child, although he could not really remember her very well. He hadn't liked her though. Her distaste for her son was legendary, however.

Harry had told him the most about his elusive cousin, with an admiration he usually reserved for the likes of Dumbledore and his parents. Professor Lupin had come close to this height, but had never quite reached it. Sirius seemed to have been restored to his pre-Azkaban visage (Harry had shown Draco the photographs from his parents' wedding). His presence gave Draco a strong impression of the Weasley twins. Sirius seemed to nice Draco's staring and said with a roguish grin, "Death has its benefits."

"How are you here?" Draco blurted.

"I snuck here," Sirius said simply, and, for some reason, Draco knew that he would not be getting another answer.

"Alright," Draco said, hoping he'd get a better answer this time. "Why are you here?"

"I know all about you and Harry," Sirius said. "I know you love him, and that you had no choice with Dumbledore. By the way, the Professor forgives you."

"What?"

"Let's just say that it was all planned. Don't worry; it'll all come out eventually." Draco looked at him skeptically. "Anyway," he continued. "We need to get Harry out of this house."

"No! Really?" Draco gasped sarcastically. "I never would have guessed!"

"Oh my God," Sirius groaned. "You are a mix of Remus and Reg."

"What?"

Sirius ignored the question and said, "I'll tell you how to do it." He explained to Draco his plan.

"That would work," Draco said, mildly impressed.

"Yeah, and it might just get you out too," Sirius said. "I'm not a Marauder for nothing!" He grinned, but quickly sobered. "Could you do me a favor?"

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Could you give Remus a message for me?" Noting Draco's confusion, he elaborated. "Professor Lupin, I mean."

"Yes," Draco said. "If I survive. What's the message?"

"Tell him that I miss him, but not to beat himself up. It's not his fault, none of it is. Tell him that I love him," Sirius cleared his throat. "And that, someday, we will be reunited."

Draco nodded, realizing that Harry's long-time suspicions had been correct. Too bad Harry wouldn't believe him even if he told him.

Sirius smiled at him. "Thank you." He turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Draco said. "Can I ask you two questions?"

"Yes, I suppose," Sirius walked back over to him.

"First, does dying hurt? There's a chance that I might die…so I want to know."

Sirius looked at him with sad eyes. "Physically, it isn't so bad. It depends on how you die, I suppose. It hurts for the first few moments, but then your nerves shut down or get used to the pain. Then you're numb." Sirius cleared his throat. "But, really, it is most painful to be leaving everyone behind. Even though once you die, you can still see everyone that you left behind and you're reunited with old friends, it isn't the same."

"Okay…"Draco took a deep breath. "Also, why did you chose me to come to instead of Harry, or Professor Lupin? I know my head is harder to get into (as I am quite good at Occlumency and passable at Legilimency) than Harry's. So why?"

"That's true," Sirius said. "But you were my best option."

"Why?"

"Because you're physically more able than either of them." Sirius paused. "And, also, you love him. You would do anything to save him, just as I would." He hesitated before he said, "And he needs you just as much as you need him, if not more."

"What?" as Draco said this, Sirius began to vanish, his image growing faint.

"Shit, listen kid," Sirius spoke quickly, desperately as he continued to fade rapidly. "You're the only one that can save Harry, even from himself – it's always been like that, and it always will be. Don't forget that kid – don't forget anything!"

"What do you mean-?"

"I gotta go, kid," Sirius said apologetically. "Tell Harry I miss him." Then Sirius was gone.

Draco woke up, now knowing what he had to do; he just hoped that he could pull it off.

**xXx**

Draco paced around his room anxiously; Voldemort was returning at dawn – he had to get Harry before then. He had done all of the preparations that he could; now all he could do was wait. Dawn was at 6 AM.

It was now 5:50 AM.

He watched the clock; it was almost time. He had gotten into his Hogwarts robes. He put the old ruby ring that Harry had given him on that Christmas. He had removed his other ring, signifying his status as the Malfoy heir, on the bedside table. He was not acting as Draco Malfoy, image of his father and Death Eater, but as Draco Malfoy, Ice Prince of Slytherein, leader of the "rebellious" Slythereins. He was acting as the man Harry had always wanted him to be. The man he should have been.

He put the ring he had given Harry in his pocket. He had already done the appropriate charm that Sirius had told him to do. He held his wand in his hand.

"Goodbye, old life," he whispered.

He reached for the doorknob. Then he heard loud footsteps go up the main stairs and down the hall. The footsteps stopped in the hall between his and Harry's doors. He prayed that whoever it was did not go into Harry's room.

A door opened; it wasn't his.

"Baby Potter!" a familliar voice cooed. "I am here to prepare you for my Lord's coming!" Aunt Bellatrix's voice turned sinister. "_Crucio_!" she shouted.

Draco rushed to the door, opening it with a loud bang. "_Stupefy!"_ he shouted, stunning his aunt in the back. "_Petrificus Totalus_!" She fell to the ground. The spell broke on Harry and he ceased his pained writhing. He looked at Draco questioningly, "Draco..." He tried to stand.

"Stay there!" Draco commanded. Harry stilled. He knelt down next to him and said, "We don't have much time." He went to unlock the cuff around Harry's ankle, and cast a strong locking charm on the door. "I'm very sorry about all this...about everything." He could hear hurried footsteps through the door.

"Draco?" his mother called from beyond the door. "What's going on? Draco?"

Draco felt a great urge to open the door, but silenced it resolutely; it was their fault that he had to do this anyway. He took the letter and the ring out of his pocket; he pressed the letter into Harry's hand. "This...this will explain everything that I simply don't have time to." He gave Harry the ring and said, "Put this on."

"No," Harry responded. "I won't."

"It's a portkey." Draco said, growing frustrated, "But it'll only activate if you put it on all the way. So just put it on so we can go."

Harry seemed dubious, but he made to put on the ring anyway.

The door slammed open; Harry stilled. Draco's parents and several other Death Eaters entered the room. His Dark Mark began to ache.

Draco whirled around and took his wand, conjuring up a shield, "_Protego Horribilis_!" He shouted, "Go Harry! I'll hold them off!"

"No!" Harry protested. "I want to help!"

"Says the idiot that doesn't even have a wand," Draco growled. "Go! Go or I'll hex you so hard your grandchildren will feel it! I'll be right behind you!"

"Fine!" Harry said, finally acquiescing. Bellatrix joined the fray. Harry put on the ring and vanished. As he escaped, the shield faltered and then disappeared. A curse came hurtling at Draco, and his world turned black.

**xXx**

The world whizzed by Harry, then sharply came into focus. He was in a homey living room. Although very little in the room could be considered new or expensive, it truly felt like a home. The small chamber was dark still, but he could see the warm brown furniture and the remains of a fire in the fireplace. On the mantle, there were a series of photos. There was one of him as a baby with his parents, smiling and laughing. Another of his parents on their wedding day, and a picture of him with Sirius and Remus. There was another photo of a child Remus with his glum-looking parents. The last photo on the mantle got most of his attention. It was older than the rest, it was of Remus and Sirius when they were about 15, the snow falling around them in Hogsmeade as they kissed.

"Who goes there?" A voice shouted from behind him. Harry turned and saw Remus, who was holding his wand aloft in front of him. "Harry?"

"Hello, Remus," Harry smiled.

Remus pulled him into a backbreaking hug. He released him after a moment and said, "Come, sit down." They both sat down on the couch. "Tell me what's been going on."

Harry told Remus all that had happened, and about how Draco had saved him. "He told me he'd be following me, so Draco ought to be coming soon. I want to be here when he arrives."

Remus said, "Alright, I suppose you can sleep right here." He transfigured the couch into a bed. "We need to get you a wand and track down Ron and Hermione, but I think you should get some sleep first. You probably haven't slept too well. Call me when he comes or if you need anything. I'll go get you some PJs."

After Harry changed, he went to bed, but did not sleep well. Despite himself, he still worried about Draco. He hadn't _forgiven_ Draco, but that didn't mean that he didn't love him. He thought that that was something they could talk about when he arrived.

Draco didn't arrive however.

When Harry awoke Sunday evening, he realized that Draco had never arrived. He could hear Remus making tea in the kitchen as he pulled out the letter Draco had handed him from his pocket. He opened it and read Draco's hurried script:

_Dear Harry,_

_I know that there is a lot that has happened. I hope that you can forgive me for everything (although that may be impossible). As I write this, I have made every preparation to save you Harry. I can't say that I had no help; I saw your godfather in a vision (or at least I think I did). By the way, he says to tell Remus that, "I miss him, but not to beat himself up. It's not his fault, none of it is. I love him. someday, we will be reunited." He also told me to tell you that he misses you. (I do believe your suspicions were correct.)_

_I miss you Harry, but I know that you have a job to do. So, I'll let you go, for now. If the mission leaves me behind, without us reconciling, know that I am sorry for not telling you what was going on. Perhaps we could have found a solution together. I still love you, and I hope that you love me too. Await a new dawn without Voldemort, with or without me. It will happen. I have faith. If you need any help, know that you can go to Blaise or Theo. They will help you, for my sake._

_I love you and goodbye,_

_Draco_

Reading the last words, Harry put down the letter and began to sob.


End file.
